


Fabulous Felines

by ready3x



Series: Spidey's Sexy Marriage [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consensual Sex, Dancing, Group Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Married Sex, Multi, Nude Modeling, Nude Photos, Photo Shoots, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready3x/pseuds/ready3x
Summary: After MJ and Glory kill it at a fashion show, Felicia feels ugly and unwanted. MJ and Peter use a sexy strategy to make her feel better about herself...
Relationships: Felicia Hardy/Mary Jane Watson, Felicia Hardy/Peter Parker, Felicia Hardy/Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Series: Spidey's Sexy Marriage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136312
Kudos: 8





	Fabulous Felines

“Give it up for the fabulous... MARY JANE PARKER!!”

MJ proudly thrust out her chest when the MC of the Millie Collins fashion show called out her name. The supermodel confidently strutted down the catwalk of the biggest “In” event in New York City. In the lobby of Stark Towers, the famous designer presented the newest lingerie under the theme “Fabulous Felines”. MJ was modeling a smoking hot tigress outfit, consisting of an orange striped, see-through negligee with matching bustier, opera gloves, G string and stockings, held by frilled garter. She wore a sultry tigress mask, and every sway of her firm buttcheeks highlighted her spectacular harness, on which fake paws were mounted.

 _I got this,_ MJ grinned inwardly, as she strutted down the catwalk. Like the supermodel she was, she confidently swayed through the gauntlet of flashlights, ran her slender hands through her coiffed hair, and flirted with the photographers. With every step, MJ set the catwalk on fire, and was so happy that her greatest fan was there.

“Here, MJ! HERE!!” a drooling Peter Parker pleaded, using his his trusty Daily Bugle camera to photograph his stunning wife.

When MJ did her turn, she posed in his direction, making sure he got a perfect view of her big, firm boobs, her long legs, and the perfect peach of her ass. MJ paused for effect, winking sexily and licking her lips, before she took off her opera glove and threw it into his direction. With his Spiderreflexes, Peter wanted to snatch it out of the air, but incredibly, was intercepted.

“Hey!” Peter blurted out, and froze when he recognized who had stolen his trophy. Two rows below, he recognized a familiar woman, clad in an elegant business costume in her trademark black. Felicia Hardy, the former Black Cat and his current landlady, grinned evilly at him. While he seethed in helpless anger, MJ and Felicia snickered.

While MJ strutted back, the MC exclaimed: “Ladies and gentlemen, you were a fantastic crowd! Now it is my pleasure to announce the fitting finale, and as the crown jewel of our show, here is the woman you have all been waiting for: GLORY GRANT!!”

When spotlight shone on the ebony supermodel, the entire arena gasped. With her high cheekbones, her obsidian eyes and her classic nose, she was so beautiful that the hall became strangely airless. Assuming an expression of utmost confidence, Glory put her hands on her hips, and let the audience feast on her incredible, panther themed outfit. The tall, chiseled Amazon was wearing a panther mask with a black bustier, clawed gloves, a leather thong and matching thigh high boots, complete with a harness with thick strips of mock panther fur. As a true supermodel, Glory made it look sexy, flattering, and mind blowing.

“Oh my God!” Peter gasped, and Felicia's jaw was in the ground. Both were unable to take his eyes from his old Daily Bugle colleague. With a confident smile, Glory strutted forward, and the hall erupted in ear deafening applause. Every step brought out her chiseled biceps, her shredded six pack and her endless gazelle legs, making the stunned audience believe that she was indeed a ferocious wildcat that had assumed human form. With her endless legs, Glory seemingly needed only half of any model's steps, and even MJ, stared in awe. Peter busily took pictures of both sirens, until Millie Collins herself came on stage, surrounded by all models, and took in the well deserved ovations.

After the MC ended the event, Peter quickly darted to the after show party. He flashed his “VIP guest” card at the bouncer, scanned the luxurious hall without eyes for the champagne, caviar and lobster buffets, dodged the waiters, C-list celebrities, and paparazzi, until he finally found MJ.

“Hey, there, Tiger!” his wife greeted him, still wearing her spectacular tigress lingerie minus the tigress mask. Peter wrapped his strong arms around her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. She giggled: “I hope seeing me here was worth it?”

“You were absolutely stunning, MJ! I am so proud of you!” he gushed. Peter French kissed his smoking hot wife, and she eagerly responded. His hands were everywhere, and purred with approval. When they reluctantly parted, the live band started to play. Peter smiled: “Can I invite you to a dance?”

“Of course!” MJ beamed. Dancing was her passion, and she loved sharing it with the man she loved. Bursting with pride, Peter led his stunning wife on the hardwood, and began to walk, shimmy, and spin her through the crowd. Peter wasn't the best dancer, but with her natural talent, grace, and bounce, MJ made it look easy.

“I am so happy you finally saw me perform, Tiger. Normally you do your superhero stuff, and miss it,” she sighed, while he turned her around. Peter insisted: “I would have rather cut off my dick than missing you today!”

“Please don't, I still need it,” MJ grinned and evilly grabbed his crotch. While her husband cringed in sweet agony, she

grabbed two glasses of champagne from an incoming waiter. Without missing a beat, she gave his glass and beamed: “A toast to us!”

“To us, MJ!” he beamed, clinked glasses with her, emptied them in one sip and lovingly made out with her, all while staying in rhythm. When the song ended, they sat down at a table. MJ kicked off her high heels and groaned: “Can you massage my feet, Tiger? These heels are killing me!”

“Sure!” Peter smiled, finding it very erotic to knead his wife's beautiful feet. He asked: “You had a long day. Do you want us to call it a night and go back to our hotel suite?”

“Thanks for the offer, Tiger, I am happy just to sit down.”

“You're welcome!” Peter beamed, ogled her sexy outfit, and drooled: “Please wear this for the rest of your life.”

“You like that, huh?” she giggled, proudly thrusting out her chest and letting him look at her fiery red outfit. “I love it when you drool at me. When I walked past you, did you notice I threw my glove into your direction?”

“I almost caught it, but SOMEONE had to steal it,” Peter muttered. On cue, Felicia sat down at their table, evilly flashed MJ's glove, and grinned: “Look what I caught, Peter!”

“Give me that!” he sputtered, but even with his Spider powers, the former cat burglar was too quick for him. MJ smiled: “Don't sweat it, Tiger! Firstly, I have another glove, and secondly, it's just fabric!”

“Also, if you don't give me what I want, I will evict you from Bedford Towers,” Felicia snapped. MJ and Peter looked fearfully at their landlady, then she laughed: “Only kidding!”

“Thank you, Felicia. We love it in Bedford Towers!”

“I am very happy to hear that, Peter,” she smiled, then suddenly froze. A pair of slender ebony hands covered up Peter's eyes, and a sultry voice purred: “Coffee, Mr. Parker?”

“Anytime, Ms. Grant!” he grinned, turned around and hugged his old friend. The supermodel was so tall that she towered over him, and in her panther costume, she looked sultry, terrifying, and the very definition of sex. Surprised at their chemistry, Felicia asked MJ: “Does Peter know Ms. Grant?”

“Glory is one of Peter's old Daily Bugle coworkers, they often drank coffee together. She also had a short fling with Peter... she discovered his double life, couldn't cope with it, and they split amicably... good for me, I guess!”

“I can relate,” Felicia groaned, having split up with Peter for the same reason. MJ sighed: “Look at Glory! One day, she is a secretary for some drab newspaper, the next day she is the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

“I can hear you, MJ!” Glory grinned, kissed her on the cheek and beamed: “Hi, fellow trooper, we really knocked it out of the park. I saw rave reviews online, and Millie is so pleased!”

“All our hard work paid off! I was on the treadmill until 2 AM to fit into that effing dress,” MJ groaned, and Glory muttered: “This is my first sip of water since 6 PM yesterday!”

“That's dedication,” MJ sighed, waerily high fiving her, before Glory smiled at Peter: “I am so happy you finally married MJ! Sorry that I didn't return your calls, but I am so busy.”

“No sweat! You headline shows all over the world, sign huge endorsements and got like 100 million followers on SelfieGram... and are so beautiful that I hardly dare to look at you.”

“Peter, don't make your wife angry!”

“I admit defeat, Glory. You are so beautiful that it hurts,” MJ muttered, and the ebony supermodel blushed: “Stop it!”

“You deserve every dollar you earn, Glory. This is a far cry from our early days, when we modeled for ice cream, lawn mowers, or even odder stuff” MJ shuddered.

“Agreed! No more showing off your rump in god forsaken shopping malls,” Glory agreed, before she gazed at Felicia and smiled: “I am so impolite! My name is Glory Grant, who are you?”

“Felicia Hardy,” the former Black Cat purred, and MJ explained: “Ms. Hardy is our landlady, and a good friend!”

“Nice to meet you, Felicia! MJ's friends are my friends,” Glory purred, and Felicia beamed: “Thank you!”

Suddenly, Glory's mobile phone buzzed, and after a quick glance, she sighed: “Sorry, guys, but I must do some boring fashion interviews. But let's keep in touch, Peter!”

“Sure!” he eagerly nodded. Glory gave him her card, wrapped her slender, chiseled arms around him and purred: “Good night, Peter, it was nice meeting you again. By the way... if you know some hot superheroes, let them know that I am available!”

“I will, Glory!” he grinned, and when she left, all three gazed in awe at her. Finally, Peter bumped his wife and teased: “MJ, I just made a decision. I will divorce you for Glory Grant.”

“Tough luck, Tiger. I will also divorce you for her!” she retorted, and both laughed.

“I forbid you to divorce! You just got hitched and found a nest!” Felicia interjected, saucily patted MJ's tummy and grinned: “after finding the man of your dreams, and the home of your dreams, is there already the baby of your dreams in the works?”

“Not yet,” MJ blushed, then smiled: “We want to save a bit of money, but then, we want to start a family.”

Peter eagerly nodded, and Felicia smiled at their sweet determination. Then, MJ asked: “What about your love life?”

Felicia scowled, and Peter tactfully understated: “I assume it didn't go well with Flash Thompson?”

“Please don't mention that name again,” she spat out, then sighed: “Yeah, I am currently a frustrated spinster.”

“Don't worry. With your looks, your brains and your money, you are bound to find someone,” MJ encouraged her, but she sighed: “I am not looking for SOMEONE. I am a woman of simple taste, and I am only satisfied with the best!”

“That's the spirit! Is anyone already on your radar?”

“No!” Felicia lied, but under Peter's patient look, she confessed: “Yes, I have someone, but I am too chicken to ask. That person is waaay out of my league!”

“Wait! First you say that you are only satisfied with the best, then you say you found someone, but are too chicken to ask?”

“I know,” Felicia sighed, let her shoulders drop and muttered: “Admit it, I am an dumb, ugly spinster. Nobody wants me!”

“Nonsense! Turn that frown upside down. Peter, I want to have a picture with my rich, smart best friend!” MJ beamed, put on her tigress mask, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

“Stop it!” Felicia protested, and Peter let the camera sink, but MJ's eyes pleaded him to continue. He hesitantly took pictures of a frowning Felicia and a beaming MJ, hoping his wife knew what she was doing. She seamlessly changed her expression back from loving spouse to feral feline, and grinned: “Look at us, Felicia, two smoking hot women on the prowl!”

“Knock it off, I am not smoking hot!”

“Of course you are! Felicia, the motto of this show is 'Fabulous Felines', and you are the Black Cat herself.”

“That was a lifetime ago!”

“That was a few months ago. Do you know how many million horny men still download your pictures?”

“Don't mention it, I have moved on.”

“Yeah, you became good and boring,” MJ retorted, looked Felicia's square jacketed business outfit up and down and teased: “Felicia, you once were the sexiest supervillain in New York City. Now you look like my granny!”

“I earn my cash with actual work, not by strutting around in my underwear.”

“Oh, I don't blame you. Each woman has that moment when the first gray hair, the first wrinkles and the first saggy boobs appear,” MJ retorted, and suddenly, Felicia's gaze flickered. She clenched her jaws, pumped her temples, and looked like a volcano ready to explode. Locking eyes with MJ, she emptied her champagne glass in one sip, discarded her business jacket, ripped her white shirt off, kicked off her skirt and snapped: “There is only one fabulous feline here! Peter, ignore that wannabe tigress and take pictures of the original Black Cat!”

Peter stared in horrified delight. Felicia had stripped down to a lacy bra, French knickers, and fishnet stockings in her trademark black... and she looked smoking hot in it.

“Challenge accepted!” MJ grinned and nudged her frozen husband: “What are you waiting for, Tiger? Take pictures of that wannabe hottie!”

“S-Sure!” he giggled, congratulating his wife that her evil plan had worked. MJ calmly sipped champagne, while her husband photographed Felicia and commanded: “Run your hand from your chin through that deep bosom. Slow and sexy, yes! Undo your left bra strap and lick your lips!”

“Hot,” MJ grinned, lovingly stroked Felicia's chest and admired: “Wow, you have beautiful boobs!”

“I told you so!” she retorted, proudly thrust out her big tits which nearly burst out of her black bra. Although Peter already knew the voluptuous chest of his old flame, he stared at them in awe. MJ teased: “Mine are still better, but you are a good runner up!”

“Hey!” Felicia protested, grabbed the supermodel's boobs and demanded: “Peter, whose boobs are better?”

“I need to take more pictures to find that out,” he smoothly replied, and MJ giggled: “Good answer, start with mine!”

“No, start with mine!!” Felicia retorted. Hardly able to believe his luck, Peter continued photographing their big, beautiful boobs, and commanded: “MJ, lift your arms and run through your hair! Nice! Felicia, sit on the edge of your chair arch your back! Wow! MJ, take her waist and stare her down!”

His wife complied, but Felicia grinned: “First one to look down kisses the loser's ass, slut!”

“You're on, bitch!” MJ retorted, while Peter grinned: “That's hot, you two! Felicia, put your fingertips on MJ's shoulder, and MJ, you drape your knee over Felicia's leg. Perfect! Felicia, run your hand down MJ's arm, and MJ, cross your legs! Sexy!”

While Peter busily photographed them, Felicia looked at MJ and confessed: “MJ, I hate to say it, but you look so hot in your tigress outfit.”

“I hate to say it, but even in your simple black bra, you still make me wet!”

“R-really?”

“Yes!” MJ smiled. With renewed respect, both women continued fondling each other, and their gazes were brimming with sexual tension. When MJ ran her fingertips down Felicia's side, she sharply inhaled, and kissed the supermodel on the lips. MJ eagerly responded, then giggled: “Look who is jacking off to us!”

“Sorry!” a crimson Peter blurted out, pulling his hand out of his pants, before realizing that MJ and Felicia looked flattered rather than insulted. He busily took photos while the two smoking hot women caressed each other. When Felicia stroked MJ's silky thighs, the supermodel arched her back and purred with approval, before Felicia muttered: “Is your husband okay with this?”

“Oh, that pervert would pay us a fortune to do this!” MJ snickered, and a drooling Peter grinned: “Guilty as charged!”

Suddenly, the live band began to play Tango. MJ jumped up, took Felicia's hand and smiled: “Can I invite my smart, rich, disgustingly hot friend to a dance?”

“Sure!” the former cat burglar beamed, and Peter stared in awe as the two lingerie clad sirens hit the hardwood. Everybody gasped, but not in shock, but in amazement. When the Tango started, MJ encouraged her husband to make pictures, and he eagerly complied. When the first sultry notes were played, MJ skillfully bowed Felicia back, rubbing her massive boobs into her quivering chest, then started to tango through the crowd. A superb dancer, MJ led with more skill than any male, and Felicia complimented her with catlike grace. Making sure that Peter had a perfect view, their long legs scissored with every step, and they tightly pressed their cheeks, chests, and crotches against each other. Through the thin fabric, their rock hard nipples were clearly visible, and dark spots appeared between their thighs. Everybody was staring, not because it looked slutty, but because it looked smoking hot.

“Oh my God,” Peter openly drooled, feverishly taking pictures. The two women giggled at the bulge in his pants, which encouraged to fondle each other even more. When the last tone was played, and MJ wrapped her arms around Felicia and made out with her, and her friend eagerly responded. Without breaking their kiss, both women locked eyes with Peter's lens, and he nearly jizzed his pants. MJ whispered something into Felicia's ear, which made her blush, then giggle, and she took her hand, swayed back to her husband and purred: “Tiger, remember that favor you granted me? (*)

“I do.”

“Can I ask you for that favor? With your permission, Felicia and I want to... explore each other in our hotel bed, and we want you to take pictures of it. Up for it, Spiderstud?” MJ purred in her most sexy voice. Her husband just stared, hardly able to believe his luck. He grabbed his camera and drooled: “Sure, hot stuff!”

“I love you, Peter,” MJ smiled, wrapping her arms around her husband, who replied: “I love you, too, MJ! Just have fun!”

“You are the best!” she beamed. Felicia warmly looked at them, before they led her down the hall into the elevator. MJ and Felicia continued making out, flattered by Peter's arousal. When they finally tumbled into the hotel suite, he commanded: “You two lie on the bed, while I set up my gear!”

“We are not going anywhere, Tiger,” both women giggled, making out with each other. He discreetly dimmed the lamps, triangulating angles and reflections for perfect lighting, mounted his camera on a tripod, and deliberately backed off a few feet to get the perfect shots.

“That looks pretty professional for some smutty pics,” Felicia marveled, and he smiled: “I am a professional photographer!”

“Fair enough,” Felicia smiled. After a few touches, he was finally satisfied, cracked his knuckles and and smiled: “Ready for some more hot pics, you two?”

“Anytime, Tiger! I want to be in the same picture with the hottest woman I know,” his wife beamed.

“Knock it off, MJ,” Felicia laughed, and her protests were no longer bitter, but amused.

“Okay, babes! MJ, turn towards Felicia and stroke her arm. Perfect! Felicia, straddle your thighs and drape your knee over MJ's leg. Great! Now kiss her and run your fingertips through each others' boobs!” Peter commanded them, and both women eagerly complied. He was amazed at the chemistry between them, with the experienced MJ playing off Felicia's spontaneity, and vice versa.

“Felicia, please take off MJ's bra. Nice and slow! MJ, cross your arm in front of your chest and give me your best pout!” Peter commanded. Both women complied, and Felicia gasped when MJ's beautiful boobs spilled out of the fabric. They were big, firm and perfectly shaped, with lush pink strawberries. MJ smiled at Felicia's admiration, before her husband continued: “MJ, now lock eyes with Felicia. Without breaking eye contact, run your fingertips up and down her sides and slowly unhook her bra!”

“Gladly, Tiger!” his wife giggled, and after a few tantalizing moments, exposed Felicia's stunning boobs to the world. They were larger and heavier than her tits, with hard dark nubs, and at least a 9.5 out of 10. Felicia's chest was silver, MJ's was golden, and seeing both was sheer ambrosia.

“Now hug each other, press your boobs against each other, and look right into the camera,” Peter ordered, and the two women obliged with a sexy grin.

“Smile into the lens! Yes! Now gimme your best pout! Great! Now scissor your legs, and put your hands on each others' boobs!”

“You are getting hard, aren't you?” MJ giggled, and he retorted: “Not as hard as your nipples, hot stuff!”

“You little pervert,” MJ snapped in mock anger, while the two women rubbed strawberries as hard as rifle bullets against each other. Peter ordered: “Now touch her panties, Felicia!”

MJ sharply inhaled when her friend ran her fingertips over the thin fabric of her soaked thong. The room was sizzling with sexual tension, but as a testament to their chemistry, both women were giggling, chuckling and laughing.

“Ready for some tasteful nudity?” Peter asked. MJ turned to Felicia and smiled: “It is totally okay if you say no.”

“Forget it, I am in! I am the hottest woman you know, remember?” Felicia grinned, and MJ chuckled: “That's the spirit!”

Peter beamed at them: “Great! Felicia, please sit up in front of MJ and take off your panties!”

“Finally!” she beamed, undid the strap of her black thong and waved the sexy fabric in his direction. MJ was so close that her nose nearly touched her chiseled abs and her perfectly trimmed landing strip. Next, Peter asked: “Felicia, could you please take off MJ's thong?”

“Of course!” she smiled, but as she wanted to grab the skimpy fabric, he evilly grinned: “With your teeth!”

“Oh, wow!” MJ chuckled. Determined not to lose, Felicia buried her face in MJ's crotch, trying to pull off her thong. But she only succeeded to soak it with her saliva, and make MJ very horny. Inhaling sharply, the supermodel moaned: “No, Felicia, you have to pull my panties down by my side straps.”

The former cat burglar first bit the left thong strap, and pulled it down her waist, then did the same with the right one, but the thong didn't come down yet. MJ replied: “A thong has three strings, left, right, and middle. You have to pull down the third string, the one that runs through my ass.”

Felicia buried her face between MJ's perfect asscheecks and finally managed to pull off her thong – but had run her tongue so often through her crotch that MJ was glassy eyed. Her smoothly shaved slit was glistening with saliva and love juices, and with each picture Peter took of it, her arousal rose even more. The two women now lay nude on top of each other, and their breaths were getting heavy and strained. Finally, Felicia whispered: “MJ, I think I prefer men... but can I make love to you?”

“You are the hottest woman I know. Yes, yes, YES!!” MJ beamed, giggling how stupidly happy her husband looked. She lovingly French kissed her friend, then with tantalizing slowness, both women began to explore each other's lips, curves and mounds. They exchanged female compliments, and the slow petting was more arousing than any frantic hammering. Peter greedily photographed how MJ buried her face between Felicia's divine udders, and in return, how her friend's fingers went in and out of MJ's wet, throbbing cunt. Their moans became louder and throatier, and MJ pleaded: “Felicia... please...”

“Where do you want me, honey?”

“Down there!”

With a big smile, Felicia moved down, grabbed MJ's thunder thighs, buried her face in her crotch and began to eat her out. The supermodel arched her back and moaned from the bottom of her heart, clenched her jaw and gazed glassy eyed into Peter's lens.

“Pay attention, Peter. She really knows what she is doing,” MJ moaned, inhaling sharply. With a big smile, Peter zoomed in on his wife's drooling mouth, then on Felicia's tongue, which was busily teasing her swollen clit. He smiled: “Having fun, Felicia?”

“Oh my God, yes!” she beamed, while delicious drops of love juices ran down her face. Peter marveled: “If you looked any hotter, my camera would melt!”

“I AM hot, Peter.”

“I never doubted it. You can have anyone you want.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Oh, thank you,” she beamed, kissing him on the lips.

“Do you want to join in, Tiger?” MJ offered, giggling at Peter's gigantic bulge. But with his smoothest grin, he replied: “Not yet. I don't want to spoil your chemistry!”

“Yes! Did I mention how good Felicia is?” MJ gasped, loudly moaning when Felicia hit a sweet spot. She violently bucked her hips, and her friend was grunting. MJ knew that she was extremely turned on. She grabbed Felicia by her shoulders, maneuvered her into the 69 position and began to fellate her.

“OHH!!” the former cat burglar cried out, grinding her sopping wet landing strip into MJ's mouth. Filled with awe, Peter photographed them, and his drool supercharged their lovemaking. The two women spoiled each other with long, messy licks, and clicked as if they had done this a million times before. Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, and MJ and Felicia feverishly ground against each other, each thrust making them rush towards the same orgasm.

“AAHHH!” both women finally screamed. Their beautiful bodies shook, everything contracted, and their cunts squirted thick, musky love juices over each other's faces. Feverishly making out, they rode out their climaxes until they slumped semi comatose on the bed. The entire room reeked of their lovemaking.

“Oh my God, MJ,” Felicia finally croaked.

“I told you that you are the hottest woman I know,” MJ smiled.

“Thank you so much,” she purred, kissed her on the lips, and saucily asked Peter: “Are your pictures good?”

“I-I think so...?”

“Yeah, let's see them!” MJ grinned, and grabbed his camera. Felicia and her put it back on the tripod, browsed through the digital storage, smiling, blushing and then beaming at their smoking hot XXX pictures. Peter grinned: “If you babes ever publish your pictures, you would earn a billion bucks.”

“No, this belongs to our private collection!” Felicia sharply interjected, then smiled: “But we will keep that in mind.”

MJ giggled, and Peter would have been perfectly content if they had called it a day. But then, Felicia looked at MJ and grinned: “I think we need to reward our poor, blue balled Spiderdick. Are you in?”

“Anytime, hot lady!”

With his most macho smile, Peter ripped off his clothes, pulled off his boxers, and revealed his chiseled Spiderbody. He let them stare at his bulging biceps, his broad chest, and his most famed attibute, his giant, quivering Spidercock. Both MJ and Felicia looked at it in horrified delight, and he cracked his knuckles and grinned: “So, who wants it first?”

“ME!!” both women laughed, and pounced him. Mounted on his tripod, his camera busily took automatic pictures, and documented MJ and Felicia greedily sucking him off. With sparkling eyes, both women took turns nuzzling his cock and his balls, spoiling him with long, messy strokes. When he grew rigid, he groaned: “I am going to cum! Take cover!!”

“But we don't want to”, MJ purred, and laughed maniacally when a giant explosion of Spidercum squirted globs of semen all over their faces, their hair, and her boobs. Peter cringed in embarrassment, and was amazed when both women eagerly licked each other clean. Soon, MJ was trembling with desire, and Felicia made her drop on all fours, while Peter grabbed his rapidly returning erection, put the tip at her quivering entrance and mercilessly penetrated her.

“AAUUMMM!!” MJ cried out, nearly split in half by his grotesquely swollen Spidercock. The next batch of pictures her being pounded like a piston, and nearly passing out with ecstasy when she was hit by a series of rapid fire orgasms. Instead of cumming himself, Peter discarded his panting wife and mounted Felicia, and she was no match for him either. Her cunt was seemingly ripped apart from his non stop assault, reducing the former cat burglar to a screaming, squirting mattress. After he pulled out, a near comatose Felicia blurted out to MJ: "Oh my God, he fucked my brains out! Doesn't he ever get enough?"

"He is superpowered in several ways," his wife gasped.

"Sorry!" Peter muttered, but both women beamed: "No sweat, superstud!"

As Aunt May's mild mannered boy, Peter spoiled both exhausted women with strawberries and champagne he had brought from the after show party. Using his Spidey Sense to stroke, cuddle, and tickle all the right spots, they quickly recharged until they were glowing with desire again. 

The next batch of pictures showed Peter spooning MJ, while Felicia lovingly kissed, licked and bit her swollen nipples and jerked both Peter and MJ off. When both women traded places, MJ returned the favor, and after bringing them both to screaming orgasms, he made them lay in the 69 position.

"Heh, this looks familiar," MJ giggled from the top, drooling at the sight of Felicia's sopping wet landing strip.

"Indeed!" the former cat burglar smiled, playfully teasing the supermodel's smoothly shaven cunt from below. On Peter's cue, the sore, but willing women licked each other until they were moaning with desire, before Peter finished off MJ, then Felicia. Again, he pounded them so hard until both women screamed with ecstasy, and lost count of their orgasms. After Felicia lay there convulsing, utterly finished and utterly fulfilled, Peter pounded his wife like a jackhammer. After her umpteenth climax, MJ blurted out: "Peter, can't you just CUM like other people?!"

"Sorry!" he apologized, nearly hammering her unconscious until he finally came. With a triumphant scream, he squirted giant loads of Spidercum into his wife's womb, so much that it ran down her quivering thighs and nearly made Felicia down in Spidercum. For several minutes, they lay there, basking in the afterglow. In the end, Peter cuddled his tired, happy lovers, and when they were about to drift off, Felicia whispered: “You two, I am so grateful. You were right all along.”

“About what?”

“I complained that I only wanted the best partners, but when I found someone, I was felt too ugly and dumb to ask them out. Now I know I was wrong, and I will finally do it!”

“Finally! The Fabulous Feline lives again!”

“Good night. This was the best party ever!”

“Good night, and you're welcome!”

* * *

A few days later, Spider-Man was swinging through evening Central Manhattan, and his trademark red and blue Spidey costume was torn. When he finally reached Bedford Towers and crawled though the window, MJ greeted him: “Good evening, Tiger! How was your day?”

“Kraven the Hunter tried to rob a bank. I shooed him away, but I hate supervillains with cat claws!” Peter muttered, frowning at the ripped fabric, before he pulled off his Spidey mask.

“Don't let Felicia hear that,” MJ giggled, kissing her husband while he got changed. Suddenly, their phone rang. Felicia asked: “Hi, you two! Can I drop by for a minute?”

“Sure!”

A couple of minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Felicia came in. She was her genial self again, clad in the same smart black outfit that was fitting for a successful businesswoman. After a bit of smalltalk, she nervously cleared her throat and came to the point: “MJ, Peter... thanks for restoring my confidence.”

“It was our pleasure,” they smiled.

“I will never forget that night, it was fantastic!” she raved, but then trembled: “But what must I do that you never blackmail me with your photos?”

“What photos?”

“Thank you,” she sighed. MJ and Peter smiled: “You are our best friend, Felicia, and what happened in Stark Tower, stays in Stark Tower!”

“I appreciate that, and I always wanted to make love to a happily married couple,” she confessed. MJ and Peter hugged her, before Felicia produced an elegant piece of fabric. It was MJ's glove, the one she had snatched out of Peter's hands. She offered it to him: “I feel bad for stealing it from you. Take it!”

“No, keep it. Firstly, it is a nice reminder of our night of passion, and secondly, I rather have the woman who wore that glove than the glove itself,” Peter chuckled, kissing his wife.

“Fair enough,” Felicia smiled, and continued: “Now for the really big news... thanks to you, I am no longer a single!”

“You asked out Mr. Right? Amazing!” MJ beamed, and Peter gushed: “Spectacular, Felicia! Who is the lucky guy?”

On cue, a tall, hypnotically beautiful figure entered Bedford Towers, and MJ's and Peter's jaws dropped. Felicia wrapped her arm around her new squeeze and proudly announced: “Here is my new partner!”

MJ and Peter looked slack jawed at the stunning ebony of supermodel Gloria Grant. Felicia kissed her new girlfriend on the lips, and purred: “I told you guys that I have a simple taste. I am only satisfied with the best, and thanks to you, I finally mustered the courage to ask out Glory Grant herself!”

“C-Congratulations,” Peter stammered, while Glory flashed her pearl white teeth and grinned at him: “Felicia told me how you built up her courage. Thanks, Peter!”

“Y-You're welcome.”

“I heard that Felicia likes parties! Do you know what parties she likes best?”

“I have no idea,” he lied, and both MJ and Felicia just snickered.

* * *

(*) See the previous part of this series, “Breaking in the Cat`s Lair”


End file.
